


Out of The Weirwood

by depressingbrew



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Magic, Bathing/Washing, Cringe, Fantasy, Hydra (Marvel), I think i wrote that scene just to put that tag on, M/M, Mages, Magic, SHIELD, Wizards
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-29
Updated: 2018-11-02
Packaged: 2019-08-09 11:12:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16448840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/depressingbrew/pseuds/depressingbrew
Summary: The Alliance of Sheild is losing the war. Because they play for good. They play fairly without breaking their own morals. They play for the freedom of all peoples.All peoples except Steven apparently.You know, because of the ‘made of magic’ thing.His entire body is technically illegal on Alliance territory.orBucky gets brought to the brink of death, bites the guy's nose off, gets cursed by dark magic, pissed on and then thrown into the nightmare forest called The Weirwood for the mages to hang his head on a pike or whatever.All in a Prince's day of work.





	1. Weirwood

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know anything about anything gosh. I just had fun writing this, but like I'll take suggestions. Also, titles suck. If I change it I'm sorry (I'll keep the old one in it).  
> P.S. I know Weirwood is the name of things in other fantasy media, I actually just googled it and the game of thrones tree is pretty rad let's just say for appearance sake they look kinda like that. (I've never watched GOT sorry...) but otherwise, they do nothing other than what I depict here.

Despite what the rest of the world thought, the Weirwood was the one place where eternal peace could lie. Animals thrived unhunted, trees grew taller than towers, and _magic_ was allowed to be as free as the rest of the inhabitants, and commonly could be seen taking several forms.

Steven was the only human that lived in Weirwood. He is also one of the last human’s bound by magic. The other mages were either disguised heavily or held powers unannounced to the host. This made the most common mage was that of dark magic. Which is what made up the army of Hydra.

Dark magic was weekend in the last Strife, it would never stand against any magic made of pure or good. But alas, the Alliance of Shield, in fear of another catastrophe banned all magic from its regions. Or as they called it ‘regulations’ on magic and magical objects. Weirwood was a special place not dictated by man or politics, but the magic within the earth.

This is why The Alliance of Sheild is losing the war. Because they play for good. They play fairly without breaking their own morals. They play for the freedom of all peoples.

All peoples except Steven apparently.

You know, because of the ‘made of magic’ thing.

His entire body is technically illegal on Alliance territory.

Hydra was not a place for Steven either. They had no desire to save or free anything of magic, to make those who possess or carry it equals. All that bloodthirsty empire wants is power. Power, control, and glory. The desire and spiteful hate of their leader was strong enough to break through the magical bounds of the Weirwood. But magic used for a sin comes with a cost. His punishment for this why he is called The Red Skull.

Steven once was not the only sentient to live in Weirwood. He was trained by the Grandmaster Erskine. But his beloved Grandmaster was murdered for his knowledge of magic when Hydra broke in. But Hydra did not know that he had passed it onto Steven before he passed. He had also protected the other mages who once came and went from Weirwood- as a safe haven.

First of all, Weirwood was safe as long as Steven never left. This meant nothing inside could be harmed. Second of all, if a non-magical entity stepped into Weirwood they would see their greatest fears. This is how Weirwood got its reputation today. Troops would rather go around it than through it and see a forest full of dead bodies. Thirdly, Weirwood would nurture all with good intentions in a time of need. Steve could bend these rules, he could let lost humans leave without mental scarring, or he could command the trusted spirits of the wood to attack any wandering Hydra grunt or agent.

Steve did what he could from the wood, seeing the Alliance loose, despite their rejection of every piece of him, was still heartbreaking. Being a bystander was difficult but Steve could not break this charm, despite oh how he tried over the years. This charm has lasted 70 years. Although Steve doesn’t mind the time as the magic possessing him does not age. He does long to be with other humans, mages or not. He did have Samuel, who has been the Alliance guard of Weirwood for 5 years now. 5 of 70 is not a lot but it sure was a great improvement. How Samuel- or Sam as he insisted- began to know of him, and how un-dangerous Steven was is an entirely different story and that's very remarkable on Sam’s part.

But alas with the Alliance losing the war, Sam was reposted for a more important duty- that of protecting the Warrior Prince, James Barnes. The Barnes faction of the Alliance was the one bordering the land Hydra was threatening to take. But this also bordered Weirwood. Weirwood had taken up a lot of the border between Hydra and Shield, meaning the majority of the war was happening nearby. Steve didn’t like it. Nor did the inhabitants of the woods. But alas they helped the Alliance in the small ways. Nearby wounded found themselves with medicine. Simple dark jinxes, we’re aided. Although this did not help the dimwit’s understanding of the jinxes and sometimes they had to do memory charms about being jinxed at all. And by we, Steven meant himself. The spirits did what they could, the trees helped gashes. But Steve did all the dirty work.

Steven didn’t do this just because he was so kind. He had other… motives. Steven had first seen Prince James as a young boy but upon Sam’s assignment change Steve had gotten his first glimpse of the Prince and- wow. He was like no other Human Steven had seen. And 70 years brought quite a few daring great warriors his way.

But the Prince was like none other. From the way, he interacted with his people, to the comments he made about magic (which we’re very refreshing by the way- alright?), warmed Steve’s heart. It wasn’t the fact that he was a Prince who fought on the front lines, or that he was a good fighter or even the way he looked. Steven was almost a century old, looks we’re overrated at this point. It was the kindness and caring in his eyes that made Steven so… obsessed. Alright, he was obsessed with this man, and watching him was a nice break.

Steven found himself sitting on the rocks, not even 5 feet away, but the Weirwood disguised what was within, and only trained eyes could see what was really there. Sam had caught him a few times, he’d made a few things up as if he had missed Sam. It had been a few too many times and Steven had decided this infatuation was pointless and he should focus more on keeping Weirwood safe.

This was a great excellent idea except for only a month after his visits stopped, he had found the first human in nearly a century, clinging to his life with only the support of the Weirwood. Steven wasn't sure but he had a feeling this matted man was the very same Prince James.

Most humans like this Steven would give a peaceful send-off, this kind of magic took too much of him and his magic to sacrifice.

He couldn’t.

He wouldn’t dare.

He shouldn’t, he had is duties to the Weirwood.

But guess what?

Steven did.

 

**xxXXxx**

 

Bucky hadn’t gotten much sleep the last few days. It wasn’t him being stuck in battle- no he had traded out but adrenaline coursed through him as his men laid their lives down. Sleep would not come, just as fear would not leave.

Of course, now he was in battle. Peirce had shown himself and Bucky had managed to chase him and corner him between the Alliance wall and Weirwood. Peirce was expert at dark magic, and Bucky was having a hard time controlling him, but nobody had yet to corner him. This was it. This was a death that would turn the tide, finally put the Alliance neck and neck again.

“Stupid boy.” He heard whispered in his ear. His horse reared and Bucky calmed her down, looking from side to side, the daytime was getting dimmer and dimmer. And that was not a good sign for Bucky. It was then, lost in his thoughts that Bucky felt the searing pain in his own stomach. He felt himself lose balance and slide off the horse. Vicious laughter was heard.

“Bucky, Bucky, Bucky. You knew this was happening.”  
“Don’t call me that you coward!” He roared. The knife was still in his midriff and he pulled himself towards a nearby tree.

“Tsk. I’m done with you playing hero. Today’s the day you die, along with all the hope in your kingdom. Quite the poster boy aren’t you?” Pierce said.

Bucky knew it was over. He knew Peirce was right. He had a potentially laced dagger in his midriff which was now making his undershirts very sticky with what he presumed was blood. Bucky gave his last bit of defiance and spat in his face.

“Why you!” Pierce than snatched a sinister looking book and read off a depressing spell. At first, Bucky was relieved, thinking Peirce had said it wrong and gave him frog lips or something. Wait Peirce already had frog lips nevermind that. Bucky opened his mouth to mock him then he felt it. Excruciating pain, it made his body seize up into a ball. Pierce was laughing maniacally. He got very close to Bucky’s face, which was hard because he was sprawled on the ground and his body was seizing in a fetal position.

But Peirce was desperate to relish every last moment he had on this earth. “This is what happens when you ban mag- AHHOH” Bucky lurched forward through the pain biting his nose the hardest he could. His head felt like an elephant was playing jump rope on it. For a second he lost himself, where he was, what he was doing. But then he was back, with a chunk of sweaty blackhead filled nose-skin in his mouth. He spits it out as best as he could but it just fell next to him. If he wasn’t totally fucked right now he would have yelled ‘ha got your nose!’, just for the hell of it. Peirce was howling and reading off jinxes upon jinxes, despite the reality of Bucky surviving this was slim to nothing.

“You filthy little bastard!” He shouted as he ran out of magic, and apparently out of spells too as he rapidly kept looking for dark spells that wouldn’t kill him. That was a hard one. Because the point of dark magic mostly is to kill right?

Bucky truthfully knew nothing about magic. Some in his court studied the practicality of it, but performance was forbidden in the Alliance. The study itself was forbidden by commoners and only appointed officials had permission to acquire knowledge. Pretty messed up system. Especially in a war like this. And yet the Alliance leaders vote every quarter and the vote never changes- Bucky had been thinking to change his vote at this point. Especially now that Peirce had picked him up and was carrying him towards the Weirwood. What, going to leave him for another mage to fuck him up more? Or what give him nightmares about his sister being kidnapped or eaten or dying. Well, nothing Bucky hadn’t see as a child. Every child tries to enter the Weirwood. Some found themselves simply turned around, other found their greatest fear waiting inside.

Bucky was hoping maybe they’d have mercy on him and just end his life quickly. He had one last tactic. Peirce had made his body stop seizing by another hex on top of it (he didn’t undo anything),  but the pain- oh god this fucking pain was still here. Bucky had one more trick up his sleeve. He slid his smallest dagger from its pocket in his trousers and his it between his arm and his body. Pierce didn’t even notice, carrying him over his shoulder. He was mostly too busy trying to figure out where the Weirwood started and regular space ended. He felt that he was deep enough and was about to throw bucky down when Bucky took his last bit of strength, hyped up on adrenaline and unsheathed the knife with his teeth (His other arm was stuck being held by Peirce’s grasp), and flung it into the highest part of his back he could reach. Hoping to pop a lung or something. Peirce who had alright built up momentum to throw him, whipped around as he was doing it and bucky’s back when crack against the tree. Everything was black after that.

Except this wasn’t the end. Bucky wasn’t sure when or where he was but he could feel his body dying for sure. He was so unsure of how he was not dead. He could spell forest and piss, and he was pretty sure Peirce took a piss on him before he left him to die. Literally. Bucky out of the sheer shock of everything tried to stand up but he couldn’t so he just crawled. He wasn’t sure what it was, but-but something was telling him to go, to move anyone he could further into Weirwood. He crawled, caked in mud and piss, and eventually his own piss because hell if he had any brain space to control any sort of body function. He was grateful there were no bowel movements to follow.

His vision was blurring and the dead trees from the outer edge began to change to those with vibrant fall colors. The mud turned to a bedding of leaves. Which cradled him as he inched along with a one-armed army crawl. He felt as if the ground was pulling him forward. Like the vines and roots of Weirwood were pushing him to go. Although a fighter, Bucky eventually gave in, reaching a limit all humans had. He fell against a lark tree trunk with a strangely perfect divot that fit his back as if it were clay molded for it. What he thought was his last moment- he wished to the forest as if it were a sentient being, “Forgive us for our ignorance in the magic…” the colors of the forest were now just blobs swarming around in his vision. He felt as if the earth was cradling him, frass weaving his wounds wind blowing through his lungs becoming one with the forest.

His last thought was how fucked did that sound, ‘one with the forest’. Then he slipped away.

 


	2. The Guest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi welcome back this one is kinda weird but I'm going to go with it even if it is trash because this was fun and ill continue to pollute the internet with my gay fantasy dreams.

Steven was bewildered. How could a human get this far into Weirwood? He looked at the roots propping the man up against the largest and eldest tree of the forest. It was a place Steven normally used as lookout… he also felt most connected to the forest here, as if it were most active in the spot. He soon noticed the mud caked man was covered in blood. Steven took a closer look at the wound and noticed the stench. He was surprised to see the man breathing despite laying here for what seemed overnight. 

Upon touching him the roots grew up to block him. “Why not?” He said angrily at the forest. The roots retreated and he then sensed it, the many dark hexes floating around him. Steven took a step back. He also instantly felt stupid as now he could physically see the dark energy swirling around the dagger. He called upon the forest and with a burst of light, he broke the touch hex, which was a booby trapping hex… putting it on a living body though…

Putting these kinds of magic on people always had dangerous and unpredictable effects.

Steven then carefully touched him again. There were no sparks or warnings this time. As he lifted his body the roots pushed upwards and the vines left the feet of the man. “Thank you” he whispered to the forest. He felt the chill of the wind brush him by as if it were saying ‘you’re welcome’.

Steven smiled and picked this man up as carefully as possible. The dagger was still in his body and he was pretty sure it was bound to him. These hexes we’re obscure- like someone had just cast them at random like this man was a guinea pig. 

On top of that, he reeked of body fluids and as much as magic could help to heal- it wasn't safe for those who’ve never been touched by magic. Being touched was something given at birth or childhood. Its those blessed with it, or those who went through a magic related trauma. It’s well known that even helpful magic can be rejected by the body. 

But that also begs the question of how this man- if he is the prince Steven thinks he is (with a closer look his handsome features look identical),  then why did the forest heal him? Was he actually magic? Healed with magic once before and unaware? It had to be something because regardless of your human status or politics the forest knows no mercy to outsiders. Steven is supposed to be the mercy. Also, why hadn’t the forest alerted Steven? It has ways. Especially if there was a battle going on inside it. Unless someone had purposefully thrown this man to Weirwood… he doubts anyone sane would enter it for help, or protection. Steven looked down at the man in his arms. 

The princess carry was the only way he’d ensure his major wound wouldn’t be disturbed. But to be honest, Steven could barely see them at all, due to the mud and dirt. The only reason he knew something really bad was up was the dark purple mist the seemed to only surround the dagger sticking out of him, and no matter how he jostled the body, the dagger stayed upright. He carefully slid into his house. Yeah, it was a house. 70 years with magic, Steven got a little lavish over the years, what he's not a savage just because he's magic. 

Steven carefully set the man in the large tub, he’d crafted it with magic from the clay deep bellow. It took a bit of time to get it right, as he was particularly tall and fit himself. So this man who was leaner and shorter than him by just a couple inches fit well. Steven ran the warm water pumped from the hot spring carefully. If Steven needed something, the forest supplied it to him, and vice versa. That's just how their relationship went. 

He carefully washed away the mud. He did his best to remove the mangled and now twisted clothing with a small knife. He’d mend or reuse them later. Steven knew best that he could not wait longer. Running out to his main room, he quickly rummaged through the books to find a counter hex for the immovable one places on the dagger. Yes, there was dagger still in this guys stomach. He found it and immediately the body started seizing and twitching making the wounds worse and splashing muddy water all over the place. 

“Oh god!” He turned off the water and cast a hefty levitation spell on the body so it would no longer keep cracking its bones against Steven’s bathtub. He fumbled through his notes, he had no clue what kind of torture this was. Dark magic, this one was put on the body with great concentration, unlike the weak silly hexes. He heard the birds singing at his window, singing to calm him down, he listened to calm his mind, and then he found it. He no longer needed the book, he lowered the body and without hesitation and boldly and clearly as he could he muttered the counter curse. The body stopped seizing, the man’s face let up from the frown and he relaxed. The knife had slipped out and he was now bleeding. Steven was unsure what he could do as he knew he was taking a toll from the overexertion. 

He watched the blood mix with the mud and he ripped off his own shirt and tied it around this man, He cast a simpler binding spell, and that did the trick. It was at least keeping his blood inside of him. Steven sat back, look at the mess. He sighed, adrenaline leaving him, he found that relinquishing this man of the dark curse took more of him than he originally thought. Steven was now a mess, muddy and he decided that sleeping on his fluffy rug was going to be the best thing to do right now, regardless of how ridiculous it was.   

 

**xxXXxx**

 

He could feel that he was being carried, maybe he was going to heaven. Except everything hurt so probably not. He tried opening his eyes but could only see colors, it was so bright. So bright but so warm. He dozed out but returned when he heard boots on wooden decking. It reminded him of the treehouse fort, from long, long ago. He came back to the present again ripping him away from the warmth he craved as his body was set onto something cold. But soon after that, he was surrounded by warmth again, with the sounds of water. The fourth time he felt himself back to the present was when he began seizing uncontrollably again, his mind was panicking and he felt himself being taken somewhere, 

His conscious finally slipped back when his middle was wrapped with a shirt. He couldn’t move and he still couldn’t take so he just laid there in the muddy tub, waiting for whoever to come back. But they didn’t. But then Bucky noticed it. Whoever it was was on the floor. It was a man, with soft looking blonde hair. He looked as if he had passed out himself, and before Bucky felt himself drifting again he moved his arm as much as he could, slowly and shakily reaching for the other man. But the darkness took over before he could do anything else. 

 

**xxXXxx**

 

Steven awoke to feel rejuvenated. His magic had returned to him but knew he could not conjure anything great. Magic was stamina for him. It wasn’t endless, despite its strength, and if Steven did not preserve his stamina (or magic), he would surely die. Just as if someone else would by bleeding.

Steven sat up looking at the state the bathroom was left in. He couldn’t even finish bathing the man as mud was now caked to the tub walls and the man’s legs. Although he had got enough of it away from the major wound. Every part of his body looked beat up, especially for the left arm. He was positive it had not been there earlier,  Unsure, Steven touched it with his hand and felt the presence of magic, deep magic, the very feeling of energy. The arm itself was not human, it was magic, and it was bound by old magic to the man. Steven sat back surprised. The arm was probably the only thing that kept him alive, the magic stored up like a capsule had been released as soon as the body started to die. This was the work of very old magic. The exact same magic that had made up Steven’s body was what had made the arm. 

He sat there examining the arm for a good 10 minutes. He then noticed that the other arm was reached out of the tub. Did the man wake up? Steven wasn’t sure to be glad or not about that. He took the hand with his own and set it gently back in the tub. He carefully examined the left one, making the man stir a bit with a grunt. Steven ignored this, keen on checking other wounds now that he wasn’t hysterically rushing to keep this man alive. The binding of the fabric was a good idea, Steven had no clue what other kinds of hexes or ailments were left inside the wound, and in order to safely do that, he had to cleanse the body on the outside, first. 

He then reached for the purpling arm, it looked as if it were dying. Drained of all life and magic. Steven was unsure what this meant for him to do. This magic was beyond him, he only knew of Erskine who could perform it. Hydra dark mages had tried their hardest to recreate it. That's what made Johan Schmidt, the Red Skull so deformed. 

Steven trailed his hands up to examine the seam of where the magical arm started and the human grown body started. There must have been a tragic event… or something. Did Erskine do this? Was it another mage that the Alliance was keeping a secret about.  Was it- Steven had glanced up to the man’s face to find his eyes fluttered open, watching him.

With a small gasp, he lept back. The man’s eyes had gone wide, but he did not move other than a weak flinch. “Y-you scared me.” Steven finally said, embarrassed. The man snorted quietly and his mouth curved up to a smile. 

“Nice to see you awake,” Steven said, sitting back up looking down. The man’s eyes had said exactly what Steven feared. “You woke up when I was sleeping…” 

“Hmmf” The man made a noise, but immediately after that, he cringed in pain.

“Oh no, okay don't move okay? I’m going to uh wash you up. So I can further examine you… okay?” The man didn’t respond as Steven thought. He just gave him a look that read something like what choice did he have. 

Steven turned on the water again, the hot spring fresh water came rushing through again. This time, instead of filling it shallow he filled it half full. Just by being submerged the water turned brown. Steven tried to clean the man but it was useless with the water. This time he filled it a little fuller than half and just a few dirt clumps remained to float. He felt kind of weird about undressing this man, but he did and the man didn’t seem to be keen on moving or making any sign of protest. As Seven began examining the wound on the uncaked arm, He assumed the man was slipping. Quickly he ran out to grab a potion. This was one had many uses, but he thought maybe there was a hex on his voice box, he took a bit of it and rubbed it against the man’s throat as lightly as he could and slipped a drop on his luscious red lips that Steven was not going to think about right now. 

He began riding his legs of grime, and as best as he could from the seemingly dead hand. He then working around the wound of the chest. He had gotten all the dirt seemingly off and had to drain the water for the third time. By the time it filled up to his chest the man was awake now.

“I gave you some uh medicine so your throat should be feeling better… not completely so don’t strain it.” Steven was hoping this was going to be the last of the weird hexes. Someone was not happy with this man. “I need to wash your hair now, I’m going to sit you forward and do the best to get it in your eyes… I also poured some things to help uh... cleanse your wounds. It might sting.” Steven did exactly what he said he was doing. He carefully rinsed the man’s long brunette hair. It was only just as shoulder length, but it was long for most fashion nowadays. Steven carefully managed the mud out of snarls. He brushed his fingernails over his scalp and felt the man shiver. He made an ‘mm’ sound and Steven stopped to see if something was wrong. The man turned slightly from his hunched state, dripping hair parting slightly so his eyes could meet Steven's. “A-again,” he whispered quietly. Steven blinked, his hands full of suds.

He slowly put his hands back, scratching the scalp. The man gave a great moan of pleasure that Steven wasn't expecting. It was strangely intimate… human contact was a new thing for him as it'd been so long. He seemed to relax under his fingers, which in turn make Steven relax. He carefully tipped his head back into the water, the man just stared up at his face, body rather ragged and limp. His eyes were drifting shut once again. Steven felt very awkward now that the man had awoken. It wasn’t as if Steven had completely undressed him… he still had his undergarments. He took a deep breath and told himself that it was he who was making this awkward.

He drained the water and began treating all the minor cuts. He then tried his best to dress the other man. He set him down on his couch. Steven didn’t really have a guest room of sorts. Because he wasn’t supposed to have any guests.

Steven’s day had been turned on its head. He finished whatever duties of the forest he had. When he returned the prince was still unconscious. He presumably stayed this way through the night as when he awoke it looked as if he had not moved. At first, Steven was terrified he missed something and the man had passed on, but after a triple inspection, he was indeed still breathing. He risked going out to check on the forest. A quick survey. When he got back he made the wound his top priority. He surrounds himself with every healing device and book he had. He could sense magic still lingering around it. 

“I don’t get it!” He said ruffling his hair. It was dark magic. He knew that. Erskine was talent, but he used his magic for the innocent, not for that which defended. He knew defense of course, and so did Steven but this… it just felt so above him. Steven began testing safe counter hexes. If the magic would just show itself. He glanced at the arm, it was even more purple. Not now. The arm can be dealt with later. He thought very carefully about what he already removed. 

Steven had made his way through every book. He looked at the arm again. Thinking about how difficult that would be… he didn’t even know if he could heal it. If anyone could heal it. An unhealable- 

STUPID! 

Steven jumped up returning once again to the bookshelves. He nervously returned. He then moved the man to a small table. He really rather no have blood on his couch. He didn’t use the table often though… also he could stand? Alright, honestly Steven was procrastinating. Because really what is he doing? Breaking every rule he made for himself? Well, the forest was first to break through right? So he was just really aiding the forest. He couldn’t just let him die either. Oh, what the hell.

Steven ripped the cloth from the man’s body thus breaking the spell that was preventing him from bleeding out. Blood started to gather, a deep red and run down his side. The man stirred in pain.

Steven whipped open the book to the page he marked and began the complicated counterspell without looking at the wound which knows looked very dangerous. He finished and the wound kept bleeding. He wasn’t sure if the magic was. He scrambled to his crystals, he picked up his clearest amethyst (they collected bad energies and magic). He held it near the man and it stayed clear. He waved it around a bit and put it next to the man as if to double check. He held his hands over the wound and he could feel nothing resisting him.

“Thank GOD!” He said slumping down. He quickly opened his eyes realizing that he was still bleeding. 

All over the table.

Nice one. 

Steven quickly grabbed his healing crystals but then stopped. 

Magic healing only worked if you were graced by magic. He glanced at the arm. That was magic, but Steven didn’t know the technicalities of all of it. Instead, he got out a needle. And rubbing alcohol. 

“Okay… I’m doing this.” Steven had healed creatures of the forest before, the ones that were strong enough to survive. Steven understood the cycle of life, the creatures of the forest do not hunt, but the forest provides them all with what they need, the carnivorous residents only eat those taken by natural causes. Steven knew there was a reason for everything in Weirwood, even if he didn’t know that reason.

So he found the needle, alcohol and a fine yet strong thread. His mother taught him how to sow. She also was an apothecary so she taught him how to sow humans as well. 

Steven was born for this. He blessed his mother’s memory and got to work.

He didn’t want to think about it. He cleared the blood put the man back on the couch and by then Steven had received 70 year’s worth of excitement in one day. He began cleaning up the books. He quickly laid the prince down in his room. Giving up his own bed. He began mending the clothes leaning on the frame of the bed next to him. He was sure to be there when he woke… if he woke.

He shook his head and felt himself getting sleepy. He used to much magic again. This wasn’t good for him. Especially because he was so out of practice with complex spells. He found himself thinking of the prince returning to the castle and soon his thoughts became a dream. He dreamed about being free, walking the lands with the prince, the court, sparring with Sam and his mother. His mother had surely passed by now but it was nice to dream about her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bath tag


	3. Purpose

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is pretty long :). I dont even really like long fics. Also Grammerly is my editor so if things don't make sense sorry- if you could please tell me and no matter how nice you are don't worry i will always take it personally anyways but like always comments are what i live off of.

Bucky woke and he didn’t know where he was. He was so sore. So achy and his head was pounding god damn. He rubbed his eyes as if that would make his vision any less blurry. God, he didn’t want Becca to tease him about needing spectacles again. He wasn’t even that old! He had more important things to worry about like the war- oh.

He remembered his encounter with Peirce how he almost had him- god he was so stupid. Going after a skilled dark Wizard alone? But he’s pretty sure the damage to his nose is permanent. 

Then Bucky remembered being pissed on and dragged through the mud. He remembers stabbing him and being thrown to the Weirwood. It gets foggy then but he remembers feeling like the woods we’re moving him, saving him. He must be crazy. That sounds crazy for sure. 

But he does remember apologizing to the woods, and he knows in his heart he meant every last word but was just too much a coward to do anything about it. 

He sighed and focused on the room he was in. It was all wooden, ornate and beautiful carvings and beautiful paintings on the ceilings and walls. He saw a bookshelf and a small desk. The room was perfect just for the things inside it. It was a bedroom and he was lying on a very comfy bed. The room was warm and glowing and even the sheets were ornate and very handmade. He tried to sit up, but it came with great difficulty. He winced in pain, trying to stay quiet, not to alert his host before he got his grasp of reality. He had bandages wrapped around his stomach and he remembered why. He looked down to see his left arm completely purple, he had to bring is right arm to his mouth to prevent a yelp. Bucky’s stomach flipped. 

Then he noticed a slight sound of breathing next to him. He peered over the side of the bed to his right, and there, leaning against the frame was a gorgeous man. He looked like no other human Bucky had seen. 

Was this who had saved him? Did he live in the Weirwood? Did he find him? 

But Bucky’s gut intuition already knew all those answers- and he always followed his gut. Even when it sometimes almost kills him. He looked at the arm once more and he was so confused. He shook his head as if to clear it. But of course, it didn’t make his arm look any different. 

He looked again at the man next to him. A sliver of sunlight shined through the room, illuminating a small living from the window to Bucky to the man’s golden hair which shimmered. Instantly he remembered being carried. He watched his body move slightly as it breathed in and out. He was well built as if he was a woodsman. He saw what looked to be Bucky’s clothes in front of him. Bucky looked down to see he indeed was wearing clothes, other than a shirt, but they were not his own, borrowed from the stranger he assumed. They were a little large but Bucky never having any clothes that weren’t perfectly tailored to his skin- they were wonderful and liberating as be moved his legs around. 

He rolled carefully to his side. And Began to watch the man sleep peacefully. He realized then that he had been hexed to the end of the earth. Then- here he lies perfectly fine. Maybe that part was a dream? Does that mean the piss was too? 

He honestly could care less at this point.

He was fucking alive.

He could have bled to death.

But he was alive for god's sake.

“I’m fuckin living.” Is what came out of his mouth. 

With this, his host sprang awake. The man dropped what he was holding and jumped to his feet whipping around.

“You’re…” He began. Bucky paused to let him finish but he never did.

“I am,” Bucky said assuming that he was starstruck. Even if this was Weirwood he's a prince, right? He dealt with this all the time.

“No Your arm!” His arm was indeed disgustingly dark.

“Can you move it?”  
Bucky hadn’t even thought of trying to move it, He attempted to lift it but it felt as if it weighed a thousand bricks.

“It's heavy.” He said investigating it.

The man ran his hands over his face, his blue eyes met Bucky’s, so startling.

“Oh my god, you’re up.” He said, as he just now realized Bucky was fully conscious. “Oh Lord, Oh thank god I was beginning to think I did nothing.” The man said slumping against the wall.

“Well, thank you for saving me or whatever.” He said in his raspy voice, trying to bring the man’s thoughts and mumbles back down to the current conversation. It was actually utterly adorable but Bucky didn’t have the brainpower to think about that right now. But regardless he was getting a feeling his rescuer didn't often talk to people. 

“Oh god, I didn’t do much, other than what I’ve always done. Hydra is my enemy too, so I’m on your side.” Bucky just realized he never once stopped to think that this man could potentially be dangerous. Maybe it was the medicines he was given, that make his judgment wonky. He should be more careful. “Besides I didn’t even do much, it was the for-” The man stopped mid-sentence as if he was horrified with what he was sharing. Bucky was so lost.

“It was what?” 

The man took a deep sigh and then turned his head to gaze out the window. Bucky followed his view of the trees ruffling in the background and sun shining brightly over all the trees. He then realized the leaves were green. It was no longer Autumn. No branches with missing leaves that coated the ground, or bright deep reds. It looked like an endless summer.

“Where. Are. We.”  He said with a slight panic, had he really been out for that long? Did this person actually transport him to somewhere far abroad? A billion questions raced through his mind again and he felt like he wasn’t getting any answers.

The man turned towards him from the sunny window. His beauty once again stunning Bucky. He usually wasn’t so taken by looks. 

“This, that we are in right here is the Weirwood.” Bucky blinked once and then twice. 

“So you’re not some hermit living in the edge of my territory?” 

“No.”  
“Are you a mage?”

“I am the protector of the forests.” This sunk in as definitely a yes to Bucky. He felt his heart start racing, and instantly he wanted to make this man feel as small as the prospect of magic made him feel. He was quiet though. Because he knew that it was these very powers that cured him all the dark magic.

“Are you the one they talk about... “  
“No. The great mage that lived here had powers beyond me. He passed nearly 70 years ago, and the rest of the mages were forever locked out of Weirwood along with everyone else. There are rules you see. Rules of the forest that even I can’t control. I just protect its judgment.”

“Okay, Mr. protector-”  
“Steven.”

“What?”

“My name is Steven, you can call me that, Prince James Barnes.”   
Bucky was taken aback, he’d never been directly called his full title in such a manner before. Wizard or not, he still was-. “Ah, I am not under your rule. Weirwood is a no-mans land, and out of bounds. I do not pay taxes out here do I?” Steven chuckled. 

“No, I suppose not.” Bucky agreed.

“Then Princes James Bar-”   
“Bucky.”   
“What was that?”   
“If you're not going to address me formally then at least just call me Bucky.” He said feeling like a pouting child.

Steven chuckled at him, for what exactly he wasn’t sure. He knew his nickname was weird but would proudly beat it in the name of his sister. “Why Bucky?” Steven asked, again surprising him.

“Oh uh, my middle name is Buchanan. My father’s name was the same so my mother would call me my hat and my little sister, Becca, couldn’t pronounce it. It stuck like a charm… well, I guess stronger than a charm with you there.” He said overanalyzing himself, leading Steven into a full hefty laugh that made Bucky very pleased.  

“You don’t get many visitors?” He said looking around, definitely sure this was Steven’s room.

“You’re the first in 70 years to be granted entrance by the forest.” Bucky couldn’t wrap his head around that statement. Steven hadn’t had a guest in 70 years? 70 years? This man looked in his prime! Bucky had just been drooling over his physic while he slept! Well… he did like them older.    
“Wait you’re 70 years old… no, Bullshit!” 

“Well, technically 96….It’s the magic.... It preserves the forest and it preserves me with it.” They were both silents for a second, letting it sink in

“Isn’t that lonely?” He blurted. thinking about his life which he hardly could ever find a second alone. There was always a maid outside his door or a guard around the corner. He thinks that may be why he’s such an excellent knight, the strife to do things alone or by himself, his whole life has been great. 

“Yes.. yes well you should know Sam… um, Sir Wilson of your guard. He guarded the Weirwood edge before he joined your personal guard. He spoke often to me, one of few the forest agreed let see me.”   
“And why is that?” He was skeptical. He knew Samuel. Cocky bastard, but a damn good man. 

“I cannot say, I’m sorry. It’s not mine to share.” He raised an eyebrow. 

“But he couldn’t enter,” Bucky said clarifying.

“No. This is the first time under my protection.” He felt a little triumphant at first but then realized just again how depressing it was. “How are you not insane.” He ran his hand through his hair. 

“I… have the forest and… we watch. We watch your people. We help the good-hearted. The ones with bad intentions are the only ones ever with something to fear.” 

“But… what happened?” He said still bewildered.

Steven took a big sigh. He looked out the window again as if to ask the forest for permission. There was a rather strong gust of wind and Bucky was hoping to hell that was yes because curiosity was getting the best of him. Steve opened his mouth but then closed it. Bucky felt him sitting on the edge of his seat. Probably straining his abdominal wound but like he cared at this point.

“He… the great mage… his name was Erskine.” Steve looked away from the window as if it were too painful. “I…”   
“You really don’t have to tell me. I’m just a stranger in your debt. Your right. I’m not your prince, and if this story is still this painful-”   
“It is painful. But his story is great, and he should be remembered. I’ve been waiting a long time to tell it… I just never got a chance to deal with it in this way” He sighed. He then looked up at Bucky who swallowed hard. “Erskine lived in the middle of the woods at a time where magic was free. Weirwood was not the name of the woods, it was the name of the school of magic that used to stand here. Mages from all over the world came to study with him. He was teaching good morals, how magic could help, and when not to use it. We lived in the woods with him, happy to practice. Growing threats of the villages outside the forest grew, and the Alliance started taking measures to ban magic as Hydra members started showing up everywhere. So Erskine put an enchantment on the forest to protect his students. One that would only allow those touched my magic to enter, or those in dire need of help. Eventually, the Alliance fully banned magic, and the route from Weirwood to other magic societies broke down.” He looked down from Bucky’s gaze.

“But, nothing that good lasts long. Hydra raided the school and tried to burn down the forest. They killed Erskine as he tried to save us. Before he died he transported everyone but me out, entrusting me the forest which magic creatures of all sorts found their home. Hydra never won, because their goal was to take the forest... but a few were killed I’m not sure what really ended of the others, my friends... Stark, Peggy… and the Howling Commandos…”   
“I know them!” Bucky said surprised.

“What?”   
“The Howling Commandos taught me how to fight as a child… I was trained by them! What the hell? But… they were old Grandmasters…”   
“I doubt they’re still with us today… but nice to know they were there till the end.”    
“You also said Stark right, You don’t mean Howard Stark do you?”   
“Yes!”   
“The House of Stark is alliance leaders. Their son Tony, is one of the few granted to study magical knowledge… not use it but… wow.” Bucky said, “Uncle Howard… a mage.”   
“It was long ago. I’m sure some of them hid… some fled. But regardless, they were locked out of their home.”   
“Why you?”   
“I… I had the biggest capacity… I think he thought I was mentally strong enough.” Steven said thoughtfully but it held a sad tone.

Bucky felt like he was over prying but this was a whole new world.

“So… you can’t leave?” 

“No. I cannot.”   
Bucky nodded. “So… Are like dragons real then? What kind of animals live in this forest anyway?” 

Steves smile slowly inched from ear to ear, “I guess you couldn’t show anyone anyways.”   
  


The next few days were filled with Steven introducing Bucky to weird new species he’d never seen before in his life. Bucky hadn’t really seen many animals except those natively wild. He was thrilled to learn how to care for each one. Steven explained how they all lived off another, and how Weirwood ensured everyone was fed. Steven apparently did not eat meat but grew vegetables in his garden in the endless sunny weather. 

Steven had conjured a guest room later that first day after their talk. Right after he did it, he fainted which had scared Bucky so much. He went poking around his house looking for things. Of course when Steven woke he had brushed it off saying it happened normally… if he wasn’t careful. Bucky felt like yelling at him but he barely knew the guy. 

Well… he knew a lot actually. 

He talked about the palace a lot. Bucky knew everyone was going batshit with him missing. It’d been a week already. It had been a week and Bucky could walk around. He could walk enough to meet different magical creatures. Steven had a whole book of them and he showed him all the ones that lived in his forest. Some of them were very intelligent, like the Pixies, but they wanted nothing to do with Steven or Bucky and kept swearing like sailors. 

The forest seemed to have magical properties, but Bucky’s left arm was left lifeless. It was turning black as the night sky and it caused a panic in him. Its functions were limited and it began to feel like a dead weight. This wasn’t anything like necrosis- Bucky had seen it. He’d seen war and the way his men looked after dealing with Hydra mages. It wasn’t pretty. 

That's why his arm made him nervous. Steven was no healer, magic or not- he even admitted to never studying healing arts. 

He could also tell that Steven- no, Steve was worried, worried and he knew something he wasn’t sharing with Bucky. But he carried on. He was enjoying Weirwood so much he always forgot about his responsibilities. It was 2 weeks into a fairytale with this man. But he woke up with his arm black and there was a distinct line down his shoulder where it met the flesh. It was truly haunting to look at. So much he asked Steven to magic him up some gloves.

It was at 16 days when Bucky’s abdominal injury had healed enough to take the bandages off. It was also that day when Steven couldn’t take his eyes off the arm. Finally, he sat down quietly and Bucky knew he was going to talk. “Bucky…” 

“Yes?” He said a little too eagerly. 

“I have to tell you something… Something I probably should have explained two weeks ago when you woke up.” Bucky stayed silent as he paused, letting Steve collect his thoughts.

“You’re arm… your left arm… It was magic. It’s magic in the way my body is…”   
“Was?” He said out of pure shock.   
“You see, when I get hurt, let's say a pixie nicks me on the cheek? I heal within 10 minutes. Accelerated. Let's say I jump off my roof? All the broken bones heal in a few days no aches or pains afterward.” Bucky wasn’t following and he knew Steve could tell. “So when you got hurt… your arm had a bunch of stored up magical energy and it became to disperse it to your system when you got stabbed. Immediately it sent the magic to stop what was happening. But…. it drained all the magic you had. The arm cant is healed by anything but magic… that's also why the forest so easily let you in. Because you were… you were touched by magic. Probably as a child... “

“This is crazy,” Bucky said finding himself getting furious. “So what are you saying? Nothing can heal my arm? My arm is a dead weight forever?”   
“No… fine what I’m saying is that your arm was a sign of a mage. That's how Mages get their magic. Your arm used magic to slow your wounds. The forest let you in because you’re magic, and you can heal your arm… but only with a healing mage. Which isn’t me. I ca-”   
“Bullshit.  _ I’m not ‘magic’ _ . How can you be  _ magic _ ? Magic is something you use, you’ve said that before. Also, why can't we just look up a spell like you did everything else!? And Why didn’t you tell me this before!” Bucky was so terrified at the prospect of having to publicly go seek out another mage and having to explain what happened to his arm. Nobody would ever believe him, and at that thought, he hardly wanted to believe Steve. He knew he should but denial was much easier.

“Calm down, please,” Steve said unsure of how to deal with angry humans. This apparently the very wrong thing to do because of Bucky rose to his feet as quicker than Steve could blink.

“Don’t. Tell me. To. Calm. Down.” He said through his teeth.

Steve put his face in his hand very overwhelmed with emotions. “You were healed with the forest’s aid. Powers I cannot control as I’ve explained before. When I treated your wounds, I was just using counterspells to undo what another mage did to you. Like an object for ex-”   
“An object.” He snorted in disgust. “All I am to anyone in this world.” 

“It was an example!” Steve said out of his wits, feeling anger rise up like bile. He had only been angry once that he could remember. That was when Erskine refused to let him fight Hydra. He instead forced him with magic into the deepest part of the forest on the opposing ridge while he transferred memories to him. 

“You keep lashing out like this it's hard not to get frustrated!” Communication was bewildering. 

“I’m frustrating then?” 

“Yes!” Steve said thankful that Bucky understood.

“Then maybe I should leave. I can walk now, and I'm almost completely normal. I could even fight at this level of mobility.” He said getting up, mumbling the last part more to himself than talking to Steve.

“Bucky-”   
“I have to go sometime, I can't just play pretend like you in your stupid guarded little forest.”   
Steve felt himself go full tomato. “Watch that forest see you out then.” He couldn’t believe how childish he was being. They were doing fine and- he's a prince for god sake he should have more manners!

By the end of the day, Bucky had left. Steve felt very empty and raw and he didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know how to process these emotions. He didn’t know where to start or what any of it meant to him. 

He just knew he was alone.

And now a prince hated him.

More importantly, now Bucky hated him.

 

**xxXXxx**

 

Bucky regretted everything from the moment he saw Steve’s face turn red. It was so hurt and so confused. Bucky just hated the way Steve talked about magic, like the magic was more important than his life or that it was a real tragedy for it to be gone. Well, his arm was also gone! He didn’t even know what he’d tell his people. His people who hate magic. It’s not like he can snap his fingers and un-ban magic, he barely even has a say as it is in the Alliance. Also the accusation of being a mage, that was too much for his brain to handle. But the arm... he had to get it fixed.

That's what he decided. He knows Thor’s home country used magic, and his brother, Prince Loki of Asgard, was a mage himself. More interest in the darker arts but he was a start. Thor was married into the Alliance and brought much more to the Alliance, but his father, Odin and his country Asgard we’re still mysterious as ever to get to.

As Bucky trudged through the forest he had to stop himself from just standing there in awe of its beauty. There was something mesmerizing about it. Maybe it was the magic. 

Magic made his brain hurt. He felt the breeze ruffle him, as if the forest was patting his shoulder, it was one of the weirdest sensations. He’d of nearly suspected a ghost if it weren't for the way Steve was convinced it was alive. 

Oh, Steve. He knew he was a fucking goddamn asshole but what's new. He knew his words were wrong. Steve hadn’t talked to someone like he talked to him in 70 years. Nor would he die, the forest preserved him with its magic. As we walked deeper into it the summer trees spread to autumn and the floor began to become muddy. Bucky remembered the bath, and how great it felt for Steve to wash his hair after days on the battlefield with no bathing for weeks. He found himself longing for more days like that, not of near dying with dark evil curses surrounding him. 

Above all else, Bucky was astonished that Steve managed to save his life. Even if he couldn’t fix the arm, it was still so impressive what he managed to do for Bucky even if he wasn’t a healer. 

The Forest was now getting colder and colder and he started to see snow on the ground once again and he knew he was no longer in Weirwood. The journey was about a day’s walk to the outer edge. He’d have to be careful and find camp without being seen by Hydra. The trees were all dead and lifeless and the beauty of the fall or endless sunshine had disappeared. He couldn’t stay there forever, but with Steve- now it sounded like a good idea. He moved along until he saw something glowing further up. Not having actually walked his way in before, he could have gotten further down. As he approached it he knew it was a fire, as he got closer he realized the trees we’re what's on fire and they were burning up dead like crazy, snow on the ground doing nothing to extinguish, and then Bucky saw it, fire. It spread quickly from dead branch to dead branch, no matter how many icicles hung around.

After being in Weirwood for all those weeks he could tell this fire was not normal- it wasn’t just an average fire, it was made of magic. The fire was picking up rapidly and he heard shouting. He backed up, he knew that voice. More shouting could be heard closer and He saw a large group of Hydra, being lead by Peirce. 

Bucky didn’t even think before he took off. He didn’t think about what an asshole he’d been, He didn’t think about Steve’s feelings. He didn’t think about his men on the field and what might be of them or even of his people back home. Most of all he didn’t think about how by now he's gotta be injuring those wounds again. But he ran further into Weirwood. He could hear the forest crying. He saw everything from the fawns to the pixies to the pegasus fleeing. Crying at the loss of their home. 

Bucky was running so maniacally he tripped over himself and he found himself flying down to the mud. Funny, this is how he entered Weirwood last time. He looked back to see that he didn’t indeed trip over himself, it was a root, it was retreating back to its place. “What the hell!” He yelled at the tree as if it could explain its reasoning in his language. He felt so stupid. Stupid for talking to this stupid tree and stupid for what happened with Steve and stupid for his temper and stupid for being stupid. 

“Bucky? Oh god, Bucky are you alright?” He heard Steve run towards him.

“Yeah, I just tripped-”   
“Are you sure oh god I should have walked you out I’m sure-”

“Steve, no we’ll talk about this later. I’m an asshole, that's my true nature. But right now you need to know the Hydra must have broken Weirwood’s protections.”   
“That's impossible, I couldn’t even rewrite them.|   
“No, you don’t understand it was this big magical fire! I could tell… like how you can tell that something’s cursed, the fire had purple mist in it, and despite how cold or wet it was the trees burned into Weirwood like they were covered in oil.”   
“What?”   
“Steve We have to go, I didn’t want to leave you I-”   
“No no no. They can’t. THEY CANT.” Steve then runs at the direction BUcky indicated the fire was at.

“What the fuck- STEVE!” He followed Steve as he darted around the forest, instead of the fire Bucky found himself in front of the large tree he was found against. Steve scrambled up it like it had hand groves (which it did not).

After a second or two Steve scrambled down. Bucky followed him darting through the trees till they found a very small lake. Maybe it was a pond of sorts. He ran to the shore. 

“Steven.” Said an echo-y voice. Bucky looked around to see a woman- no this was no human woman- rise out of the water. Her hair was decorated with seaweed and shells.

“Please- Please!” Steve began to plea to her.

“You asked me once. I’ve told you. We’ve known this to happen for eons. We’ve lived out our last days in peace and harmony thanks to you, dear friend. But I cannot interfere with what has been foretold-”   
“It was not foretold that Hydra would seize again!”   
“The prophecy had always talked about now, the past is irrelevant, it had nothing to do with the prof-”   
“THEIR DEATHS WERE NOT IRRELEVANT!”   
“Steven I've watched you for years. Carefully nurture every creature regardless of rumor, you born under the sign of cancer, take the role of caregiver, Putting others before yourself- as well as having great empathy. I will do you one last favor before you must go. I will tell you something they wished me not. You were allowed to stand aside until you were needed in this ever changing world. Now you must go and follow this boy.” She turned to look Bucky in the eye as if to check if he was the right one. “He will lead you to what you desire, as he has already broken you free.”

“Free?” He said in a much quieter voice. They could already see the faint glow. 

“You are free of the imprisonment the Grandmaster set on you, You are free of your debt, you are free of their memories and most of all free of Weirwood. You are meant to do more than preserve a few old legends.” She said nobly. 

“I…” They could hear yelling, yet still far away.

“You should go now. Go to your kingdom,” She said turning to Bucky once again, “With Steven’s aid you shall find the one to make your arm new. He is one of your elite, lavish in good fun, but never stops until the work is done. He may be bit far and distant but his past down from his father is magic is very resistant.” They both stood there staring at her.   
“Was that a riddle?” Bucky said utterly confused.

“Prophe-” There was yelling even closer, she turned to look towards the light with a saddened look. “Farwell Steven, you have served us all well past our deathbeds.” She then plunged back into the water. Bucky turned to leave but Steve stayed put.

Bucky grabbed his hand and with his best pull, made the other man stumble forward, he glared at Bucky but finally began to run with him. This whole day had been a great time.

Eventually, the trees turned from autumn to dead, and the snow appeared on the ground again, but this time there was nothing inside but the distant smokey blaze of Weirwood. They hiked together until they reached the opposite edge of the woods and found a den. They silently settled in for the night, neither willing to talk about just what went down. Steve then cast a concealment spell to be wary. Steve had a feeling Hydra wasn’t looking for them, they thought Bucky to be dead, and if Steve had not gone back to look for Bucky he probably would have burned in that fire suffocating in the smokey purple magic. Burning Weirwood was probably just a symbol to them. A message to the Alliance that there were no obstacles for them. Steve just couldn’t think about how quickly his world was turned around at the moment. His brain was on lockdown over his existence, his sole purpose for the last 70 years, vanished. The looming question of what really was he doing in Weirwood, why was the physicality so important? Was he really protecting magical species? Was he there just as a zookeeper? 

He desperately wanted to blame Bucky in the same way he had just blamed all the trauma in his life on Steve. But He knew better, he knew the water deity, Weirwood’s last hope, was right. Because that's what her purpose was. 

Purpose. It's a funny thing.

Steve shivered and gave in to conjure a fire. Bucky didn’t know that outside of the protection spells, nobody could see the light, the den looked empty unless they stepped inside it. He knew he was in shock. He knew that Bucky probably was too. He saw the way the arm flapped around now, lifeless. They hadn’t even said a word to each other about the den. Bucky had just stopped running and so did Steve, and as if the forest was still looking after him, shelter appeared under their feet. 

Steve felt the little magic he had left drain into the fire, thus letting him slip away into a forced slumber.

“I’m sorry, this is terrible,” Bucky said, and Steve could hear the emotion in his voice. He could hear the sorrow, and the empathy and Steve really appreciated that Weirwood would be missed by someone else. That it’s memory wouldn’t die just with him. 

“It is. Let’s sleep.” 

“Goodnight.”   
Steve waited for a second, “Goodnight, Bucky.” He let his body take him into a dreamless slumber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think I've ever written a story where I knew the plot very well but not what I wanted to do with the characters. I hope the little tuff they had wasn't too... weird. I promise it gets MUCH better from here. Everyone deals with loss different. Steve lost his home, and Bucky lost what to him was his self understanding, and strength (He couldn't beat hydra before... like he could now?). IDK when writing about his arm, It reminded me of how IRL a lot of times people are okay with LGBT people, but not when its part of their lives.  
> I tend to hoard my big ideas like this story, tell myself selfishly that I could turn them into a real story. But this is a real story that makes me really happy to write as Steve and Bucky.

**Author's Note:**

> yikes, ill post the next chapter like if not tomorrow the day after.  
> another yikes just for the hell of it.


End file.
